WHO: Graham Montague and Imogen Ollivander WHAT: Siblings reunite WHEN: Thursday 24 May WHERE: St Mungos WARNINGS: Sadness. Death.
"He's half-dying, how much security could he possibly need?" Imogen snapped at a poor nurse on who was just showing her which room Graham was laying in. She entered tentatively, doing her best to not be intimidated by the guard.
"Jesus," she said to herself, noting Fred Weasley. "You can't have him next to Weasley, are you insane?" But the nurse didn't heed her words, she was already gone.
Hands shaking, Imogen found a seat next to Graham and flicked her wand at the curtains so that they pulled tight around his bed, shielding him from the rest of the world. Shielding her from the rest of the world.
She didn't know what to say, so she sat and just watched him breathing.
Graham didn’t look good. If you could look good after being squashed by several ton of stone. The efforts of the Healers were the only thing that had kept him alive to this point, and they’d included a strong sleeping draught in the last round of potions they’d poured down his throat.
Which was as much to stop him from yelling at or about Fred as it was to force him to rest.
Whether it was the familiar voice or just the potion wearing off, Graham started to stir, eyelids fluttering as he became aware of his surroundings again.
“Gargaga.”
Despite herself, Imogen reached out and grabbed his bruised and bloodied hand. "Hey, little man."
Graham winced at the touch, though he tried not to when he realised properly who it was. He moved his head just enough so he could see her, then turned it back to stare at the ceiling again.
“What are you—“ He broke off mid sentence with a wince, struggling to hold back a cough he could feel coming. That could not happen.
"Angelus hexted to say the war was over, I booked the first portkey out," she explained softly. He looked awful. In fact, she could barely recognise him. But his voice? His voice sounded exactly the way she remembered it. Only more vulnerable now. And then, because she couldn't hold it in— "Why?"
It took awhile for Graham to reply, swallowing his cough and processing what she'd said. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, how quickly she'd come to see him after she arrived here. But knowing Imogen, it wouldn't have taken her long. As soon as she'd know he was here.
"We lost, didn't we?" He asked in reply, his voice tired and resigned. It's the only reason she would have come back. Would be here next to him.
She nodded. "They said Harry Potter killed him. There's a guard outside your door, I imagine you've been charged already."
"Yeah." Graham had learned enough during his time at the DMLE to know how it worked. Even if he ignored a bunch of it to do whatever he wanted. "That sucks."
"I don't know how it's all going to work now." She brushed back a tear. "I didn't want this for you."
"I don't want to go to Azkaban, Immy." Graham realised he was scared. He didn't want to go to that grey place, he didn't want to become the cowed and drained creature he'd seen Becca as.
She could hear the fear in his voice and it crushed her. With a lump in her throat, she shifted her hand and gently pushed back a lock of hair from his face. "I know. I can't save you from that now." Not after everything he'd done. Not after what he'd become. "I'll visit?"
But even that was up in the air. Gilbert didn't even want to come back; he'd have even less of an inclination to move back to England just so that Imogen could see her Death Eater brother once in a while in Azkaban. If they even let Graham have visitors in Azkaban. Who knew how the new, new world order would work?
"Nah." Graham looked over at her again, holding back his wince. "The trip there's a bitch," he tried to joke, but that cough from earlier came back and he started coughing, all of the re-growing bones in his body screaming at him as he does.
"I'd still do it."
"Don't," he said, more insistent, lying back and trying to catch his breath again. Something didn't feel right, but he didn't know what. And he didn't want to tell Imogen either. "They probs won't let you anyway."
"Graham, you're my brother," she replied, confessing the connection she'd tried so hard to walk away from. "I don't want to lose you."
"Hey now," he countered, trying to smile. "Think I screwed that one up." Instead of smiling he reached out for her hand to grasp again. "I love you, Immy."
Her fingers laced through his.
It wasn't the time for anger or regrets or demanding why he'd had to go do this to himself, why he'd had to fight for a madman, why he'd chosen them instead of what was right, why he'd gone against everything she believed in. "Love you too," she said instead, trying her best to hold a brave face.
Graham smiled this time, and closed his eyes, the charms monitoring his vitals suddenly giving off alarming sounds. His hand slackened in hers, and a nurse and Healer came rushing in in response.